Short Fiction – The Stories In Between

Of Prophets and Rivers

I sat with an old man on a weathered bench near the bank of a section of river most don’t come to anymore. He welcomed

I sat at the edge of something, contemplating anything. Like so many times before, I try to look up, but could only stare down into

How did I find my way here? It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? Looking down at my hands, I see them holding

My little girl pleaded for me not to go. That was the hardest moment of my life, looking down at those big blue teary eyes,

I had the pleasure of working on this piece with Tara over at Caribou Crossings. If you are not a follower of her work I

I would give everything to you if I thought it would make any difference. You can have it all, I’ve held on to it long

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